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think thee should pray about this and search thy soul. Why does thee really object to this trip with Flora? Is it truly because thee believes she's too immature, or is there something deeper? No other man seems to meet thy approval.” He laid a hand on Bruce's upper arm. “Son, I'd like thee to try and talk to her. We have lives at stake here. Whatever differences there are, I'm sure thee can work them out to do the will of God.”

3
    F lora followed her sister into the house and untied her bonnet. She slid it off her head, handing it to Irene, who hung both their bonnets on a wall peg in the foyer.
    “Flora? Irene?” Mother's voice called from the living room. “I've been worried. It's getting late.”
    The smell of tobacco floated through the air and she knew her father was smoking a pipe. As tobacco farmers, the men in the Saferight family, as well as their neighbors, often indulged in smoking a pipe or rolling a cigar. Flora wrinkled her nose, hating the way the tobacco smoke lingered on her clothes.
    “Why didn't thee tell us about thy work in the Underground Railroad?” Irene demanded as she stomped into the living room to confront their parents. Flora followed on her heels, wondering the same thing.
    “Why would Pastor John tell thee something like that?” Her father looked up from his newspaper, his spectacles perched low on his nose. The paper rattled as he folded it over and set it on a small table.
    “Because he's asked us to go on a mission.” Flora sat in the rocker across from her mother by the empty hearth. “We were both shocked. How did thee hide it from us all these years? Why not trust us?” She glanced from her father's blue-eyed gaze to her mother's gray eyes. Hurt beat in her heart.
    Her parents were still quite young, in their midforties. While there was a bit of silver at her mother's temples, most of her hair was still dark brown. Her father's blond locks showed no hint of gray, only a small patch in his long beard and on the tips of his mustache. Was it true they were getting too old for such a mission?
    “We didn't want our girls having to bear the burden of lying if questioned.” Father leaned forward, straightening his posture. “Thee and Irene were so young when we went on our last mission. It was easy to plan, as thee stayed with thy grandparents and were well cared for.”
    Flora rocked, trying to process everything. She remembered staying with her grandparents, but she'd never suspected a thing.
    “Well, I don't want to do it!” Irene flung herself on the couch. “I was so looking forward to the train ride. And besides, the whole thing sounds dangerous.”
    “The risk is worth it to save lives and bring others to freedom.” Flora waved her sister's concerns away. “What has me worried is Pastor John wants Bruce Millikan to guide us.”
    “Isn't he the one who used to call thee Beaver Face?” Mother tilted her head and wrinkled her nose.
    “The very one.” Flora nodded, rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill. “Why on earth would I want to spend the next two months in his company? Depending on him for protection? I'd rather face a bobcat.”
    “Flora, boys do change when they become men. Thee should give him a chance.” Father gave her a pointed stare meant to reprimand her. “Forgive him.”
    Fury rippled through her as her face and neck heated. Why did everyone have to defend him? Even her own father took his side over hers. She rocked harder. “I've forgiven him, but that doesn't mean I have to like being around him.” She brushed at a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes. “Just this morning he called me foolhardy.”
    “I was there, and he didn't mean anything by it, Flora.” Irene sat up. “In fact, he was a perfect gentleman all through dinner at Pastor John's house.”
    “He was there?” Mother asked, looking from Irene to Flora.
    “Yes, and he's quite handsome, too.” Irene smiled as she gazed off into the distance.
    “Flora, tell me